


A fair match

by nanasekei



Series: Happy Steve Bingo Fills [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (more of a meet ugly really), Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: Of course, Steve thinks. Of all the people in the world to get in trouble with, Steve had to do it with Tony Stark’s friend.-Steve gets himself in trouble - nothing new. He ends up arm wrestling with the most famous guy on campus, Tony Stark. That'sdefinitelynew, and it doesn't go exactly as he expects it.





	A fair match

**Author's Note:**

> For my "Arm Wrestling" square on the Happy Steve Bingo. Thanks to Sheron for the beta and all the great suggestions <3

If Bucky was here, he’d have told them to just leave the bar.

It wouldn’t be an entirely bad call, Steve guesses. It wasn’t even that good of a bar, anyway. Too loud and too crowded, with drinks way too expensive for a bar whose clientele was composed mainly of college students. Based on the quality of this evening alone, he really wouldn’t mind going somewhere else.

But it wasn’t just about that.

The guy was _bothering_ Wanda. He really, really was. At first, it had just been awkward, when a blond douchebag stopped her on her way to get the drinks and ended up inviting himself to sit with their little group. Steve had exchanged worried looks with Bruce and Betty. If it had been Peggy, the douche would immediately have gotten a cutting reply; if it had been Natasha, a single look would have him so scared he probably wouldn’t even have approached her in the first place. But Wanda is more shy and reserved, much like Steve himself, and she isn't very used to being chatted up. At first, she tried to let the guy down gently, smiling and nodding politely at his endless rambling, but as time went by, it became clear the man just wasn’t willing to entertain the possibility of a woman who wasn’t interested in him.

To make matters worse, although the guy is clearly a douchebag, he is also a very popular one. Wanda had become the target of one of the richest frat boys of the campus – when he introduced himself as Ty, Steve hadn’t made the connection to _the_ Tiberius Stone, but now he did, and at least it explained the guy’s sense of entitlement.

When Ty stood up to go to his table to ask his friends about some party he was hell-bent on taking Wanda with him, Steve did what Bucky would have told him to do, and walked everyone to the exit. Bruce and Betty were wondering which bar to go next, and Wanda seemed more relaxed, when Steve stopped to say: _Oh_ , _I forgot something._ It took a moment, but Steve managed to convince them to just go on without him. He promised he’d meet them later.

As soon as he got back to the bar, he walked towards Stone’s table with angry strides. It wasn’t fair that they had to be the ones to leave the bar when they weren’t the ones being inconvenient creeps. Besides, what if the jerk jumped from bothering Wanda to bothering some other girl? It wasn’t right. Something had to be done.

So that’s how Steve finds himself in front of a table with a bunch of the richest and most popular guys on campus. All of which have at least a head over him and would be definitely capable of knocking him down if they wanted to.

“Uh,” one of them starts. Steve recognizes him as Justin Hammer, who throws big parties down the hallway of Steve’s dorm. He’s sitting between Rumlow, from Steve’s math class; and a dark haired guy that also seems familiar, though Steve can’t tell why. Hammer squints his nose at Steve as if he smells really bad. “Do you need something?”

It occurs to Steve that, though he recognizes most of them from campus, none of them have any idea who he is. He feels the spike of anger on his chest rising. Stone, who has been busy looking at something on his phone, raises his head and flashes him a grin.

“Oh, hey, Stan. I’m just checking in with everyone, tell Wanda I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, with a wink.

“That’s not my name,” Steve says, clenching his fists at his sides. “And I’m not here to tell you anything about Wanda. I’m here to tell you to leave her alone.”

Stone tilts his head, frowning. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Steve blurts. His stomach clenches a little in worry as he assesses the other guys – most of them are pretty bulky, with the exception of the brunet, who seems to be more on the leaner side; and, yeah, they’re _all_ bigger than him. He swallows. “Wanda is not interested. She’s been trying to make this clear to you the entire night, but you keep pushing, and you need to stop.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then the table breaks into a bunch of chorus of _Oooooo_ ’s and surprised laughter.

“Sounds like you’ve got competition, Ty,” Hammer says, tapping him on the back. “Tough guy here wants to take you down!”

“Look, kid,” Stone says, incredibly condescending with an edge of hostility. “I’m sorry the chick is not into you, okay? If you apologize for sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, I’ll hook you up with some nice piece of ass.”

He reaches to pat Steve’s arm, and Steve shakes him off angrily, face flushing, in embarrassment and rage.

“Wanda is my friend. Not that it matters, because I’d be here even if she wasn’t,” he says. He keeps himself steady as he gives Ty a once-over. “She’s not interested in you, and, frankly, I don’t think she’s missing out on anything.”

There’s no laughter this time, though Steve does hear a solitary chuckle coming from the table. Stone stands up.

“Okay,” he says slowly. He’s a head taller than Steve. Maybe more than that. “This is where you apologize.”

Steve’s stomach twists, but he stands his ground. “No, this is where _you_ apologize and offer to leave and not bother us anymore.”

Stone takes a step forward, towering over Steve. Definitely more than a head. “I think you should reconsider this, lightweight. The only way I’m leaving is to take Wanda to a kickass party that you definitely couldn’t get inside in a million years.”

Steve swallows. Clenches his fists. Inhales deeply before answering.

“Fuck you.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and then, almost immediately, Stone is all up on his face. “Listen here, you little—“

“Wow, wow, wow, okay,” a voice interrupts suddenly, and Steve turns to see the lean guy standing up and placing himself in between them. He has wild brown hair and wears a band t-shirt that definitely costs more than Steve’s entire wardrobe. Though he’s the smallest of the group, it’s clear that the energy changes a little at his interference. He lands a hand on Stone’s shoulder, casually, and Steve gets the sense that, while he may not be the leader of the pack, he’s definitely a significant part. “Ty, buddy, I’m pretty sure you won’t be leaving here with anyone since the car is, well, not yours. It’s mine, maybe the last couple of beers made you forget that,” he speaks very fast, gesturing with his other hand, and turns to Steve. He has big brown eyes that seem just as frantic as his rambling. “As for you, Lancelot, don’t worry, ok? He got loose for a while, but we’ll keep an eye on him. He won’t be bothering your friend anymore.”

Steve takes a sharp breath. Despise being shorter than his friends, the guy still has a couple inches on Steve. His expression is conciliatory, as if he’s begging Steve to cooperate. Behind him, though, Stone seems shocked and not at all apologetic, so Steve crosses his arms.

“He shouldn’t be bothering any woman who’s made clear they don’t want to talk to him. It’s not right.”

Ty's friend seems off-put for a moment, but he recovers immediately, plastering a grin on his face so fast Steve almost thinks it must have been his imagination. “Listen, here, uh, Stan? No, wait, you said that wasn’t your name – what do I call you, not-Stan?”  he lays his hand on Steve’s shoulder now. Before Steve can answer, he continues: “I’m Tony. Tony Stark.”

Steve barely holds back a swear. Everyone's heard of Tony Stark, the richest kid on a campus filled with already very rich people. Steve can vaguely remember seeing his face on the television a couple times, doing interviews, while he was zapping channels. Back then, he hadn’t paid much attention, just like he never paid any attention to Bill Gates’ kids or something. But he heard of Tony Stark around campus, too – how he gave the best parties, how he was disputed by several fraternities despise never joining one, and how he was apparently the smartest person since his father.

Of course, Steve thinks. Of all the people in the world to get in trouble with, Steve had to do it with Tony Stark’s friend.

Tony Stark, apparently oblivious to his shock, continues to ramble: “Look, Ty is a bit blind to other people’s autonomy sometimes – flaws, who doesn’t have them, am I right – but he doesn’t mean any harm. I assure you, he will leave your friend alone,” his voice grows strangely earnest at the last few words, but he quickly changes back to his light, fast-paced tone: “Is there a way I can make it up to you guys? Maybe buy your table the next round?” He smiles brightly, the smile of someone who’s used to buying his way out of trouble. “I’m all ears.”

Steve frowns. Stark seems weird, but something about him comes off as bizarrely sincere, in the middle of all that useless rambling. The word charisma barely begins to cover it, Steve thinks, a little taken aback – he almost managed to make Steve forget Stark wasn’t defending his friend because he made an innocent mistake, but because said friend was being a total creep.

Almost.

“There is a way,” Steve crosses his arms, staring at Stark’s expectant face. “You guys could leave.”

Stone groans. “Oh, fuck you, you—“

“Again, my car, buddy, it’s your way into Pep’s party,” Stark says, surprisingly firm, before turning towards Steve again. He seems to evaluate the situation with a few rapid blinks.

He eyes Steve up and down, rocking on his feet and thinking. Steve can’t help but shift a little, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and something flickers on Stark’s eyes. He licks his lips, staying silent for a moment until he suddenly snaps his fingers.

“I know,” he finger-guns at Steve, grinning. “Why don’t we settle this like gentlemen, huh?” He points towards the table with his thumb. “Arm wrestling. You and me, Lancelot. You win, we leave.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “And if you win?”

Stark’s grin grows playful. “I don’t feel really good about my chances. You’re only missing your stick and stone, David.”

Steve isn’t sure if he should feel insulted or not. It sounds like it should be an ironic comment, but something about it doesn’t sound very mocking.

Stark turns towards the table, taking a seat and placing his elbow on the center. “Come on.”

Steve considers his options. Stark is not as bulky as the other guys at the table. He’s taller than Steve, sure, but then again, so is everyone. And, again, he’s Tony Stark, born with a diamond spoon in his mouth. Steve doubts he has much experience with arm wrestling, and, well, Steve grew up with Bucky. He may not be able to do anything about his size, but he’s picked up a few tricks. He figures he could probably catch Stark off guard and win this one.

Maybe.

Then again, it’s better than getting beat up, Steve guesses. And if it gets Stone’s creepy ass out of the bar, it’s worth risking a sore arm.

He sits down. The other guys on the group are watching attentively with uncertain smiles, and Steve gets the feeling they don’t really get what Stark is going for, here. To be honest, Steve doesn’t get it either – logically, the guy didn’t have to offer him any compensation, let alone a chance to get them away from the bar entirely.

Then again, Steve thinks harshly, he didn’t have to stand up for his creeper of a friend, either.

Steve clasps Stark’s hand. It’s surprisingly calloused. Stark looks – well, he looks like the kind of guy who would have soft hands. Instead, though, his hand feels like it belongs to a person who works a lot, and Steve must frown, because Stark grins.

“Sorry, forgot to moisturize this morning”, he remarks, and it’s clearly an attempt to distract Steve that doesn’t really work. “Okay, one… Two… Go!”

Steve is prepared for the pressure of Stark’s arm. He’s not prepared for how strong he is – he almost twists Steve’s arm immediately before Steve composes himself, clenches his muscles and manages to hold out against Stark just before his own arm hits the table.

Steve takes a sharp breath and probably grunts as he does his best to keep focus, to throw his body weight to the side to push against Stark’s arm, and he can hear Stark’s friends chuckling but he stays determined, using everything he’s got.

For a moment Steve thinks it’s over, but then Stark’s arm starts losing ground, slowly being pushed back slightly. Still, though, it’s very hard to keep up, and Steve’s other hand grips the table as he struggles to keep himself steady. He can feel his breath getting short, which – oh no, oh no – is not a good thing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Stark asks, seeming alert. “What is happening?”

Steve tries to focus on breathing, but he can’t seem to find any air, and, oh God, that can’t happen, not now.

“I’m fine,” Steve blurts, even though he’s most definitely not fine, and he needs to reach for his inhaler but if he lets the table go he’ll lose his support.

He tightens his grip on Stark’s hand, focusing even more on pushing it. He can feel his face flushing, but he doesn’t care. He takes a sharp, forced breath that catches no air and his head grows dizzy.

“Ok, everyone,” Stark suddenly says. “Go meet Happy.” Steve faintly hears some protesting coming from the others, but he barely registers it, focusing on blinking fast to get rid of the white spots in his vision. “Go. Now. Say I sent you. He’ll take you wherever you want to go, whatever; just get out of my sight.”

Steve clings to the table so hard his knuckles go white, and he hardly hears the responses. All he can focus on is the pressure of Stark’s hand, that seems to be… stopping?

Steve blinks as the strength in Stark’s hand clearly fades, allowing Steve to raise their hands back to the initial position. Steve tries to not lose momentum, when he hears something, the sound of the door of the bar slamming shut.

“Okay, that’s the last of them,” Stark says, and his arm just goes flat, easily letting Steve’s hand push it down, landing on the table.

Steve is panting and can barely decipher what just happened. Immediately, Stark is right next to him, hands on his shoulders.

“Okay, Lancelot, breathe,” Stark says, sounding nervous. “Tell me what you need.”

“I—“ Steve stutters. “My inhaler—My pocket,” he reaches for it before Stark can, taking it to his lips and huffing it, feeling the relief of the air reaching his lungs.

“Holy shit,” Stark says. “Were you—Were you seriously not grabbing it just because it would lose you the match?”

Steve huffs it a few more times, blinking as his vision regains focus. He looks at Stark’s face. He’s close now, leaned over Steve.

Steve is a little taken aback by the proximity. Stark is a handsome guy, of course, but right now, he looks very… smooth, with those huge bright eyes and fluffy hair falling slightly on his forehead. His nose is small with a roundish end and he has long eyelashes, giving his already warm eyes a more delicate look. It’s the rare type of face that manages to be interesting and pretty at the same time.

Steve feels his cheeks heating a little. “Yeah.”

Stark huffs out a surprised laugh, then shakes his head. “Holy shit. You’re crazy,” he says, but he sounds slightly impressed.

“You’re crazy,” Steve counters, a bit more composed. “You threw the match,” he states, unsure of how to feel about it.

“Uh, yeah, of course I did. You know, I was gonna tell them to leave anyway,” he shrugs. “Thing is, they wouldn’t have gone if they thought they were doing what you wanted. Trust me, they’d stay here all night just to annoy you. So I thought I could stall the match and then I could tell them to go ahead and that I’d take an Uber or something.” He runs his hand through his hair. It looks very soft. “Also, I thought I was going to win and it didn’t occur to me you’d be willing to kill yourself to stop that from happening.” He shakes his head again, still looking at Steve as if he has done something amazing, instead of making a fool out of himself. “Do you—Do you go here?”

“What?”

“Here. As in, on campus.”

“Oh. Yeah." Steve shifts a little. “I’m a Political Science major.”

Stark’s grins grows. “Awesome. You know who I am, obviously,” he gestures to himself flippantly. It comes off as strangely self-depreciating. “What about you, though? I refuse to believe your name is actually Lancelot, that’d be just too much.”

“I’m, uh. I’m Steve,” he stutters, then pauses. “Why Lancelot?”

Something flickers in Stark’s eyes. “Ever read the legends? Bravest knight on the King’s court,” he shrugs, giving Steve a sideways glance. “Just seemed to fit.”

Steve’s tongue feels too big to form actual words. “Oh.”

Stark smiles. “Not a lot of people stand up to Ty, you know,” he says, looking away. His voice lowers to an almost whisper. “He doesn’t take it very well. None of them do.”

Looking at him now, Steve is struck by how different he is from the Tony Stark from TV. Tony Stark in the interviews seems a lot more exuberant, arrogantly talking over reporters and feeding the camera with outraging soundbites. Tony Stark in real life is more… believable, Steve thinks, with his nervous eyes and self-depreciating grins. He seems more real.

Steve likes him better this way.

“Why do you hang out with them?” he asks, unable to hold himself back. “You—You know they are…”

“Complete shitheads?” Stark grimaces. “Yeah. Most of them have business with my family, and Ty, his father is one of my father’s long time partners, so, yeah, the friendship was kind of sealed at birth.” He looks away, a little distant. “Reached its expiration date a while ago, though. But I can’t exactly… You know.”

Steve just looks at him. “Why not?”

Stark shrugs, and something about his smile seems a little sad. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Guess it’s just sort of hard to come to terms with not having anyone to sit with during lunch. Or some equally cheesy crap.”

Steve just stares at him wordlessly. Stark’s eyes dart away and he clutches his hands.

“I really am sorry about this whole thing,” he says. “I thought—I don’t know, you just came up to us, and Ty usually handles his problems by punching them, so I thought…” He gestures aimlessly. “I didn’t want you to get punched. And I really wanted to buy your table the next round. You guys deserved it.”

Steve still doesn’t answer, a little taken aback.

“What were you going to ask?” he blurts, interrupting Stark’s ramble. “If you won. You never said.”

Stark gives him a grin. Not the thousand-watt grin he gave him earlier. It’s smaller, charming, but also slightly nervous.

“Full disclosure? Your number.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “You—“ he stutters, feeling his cheeks heating, as he watches Stark blink expectantly at him with those big, pretty eyes. “Why would you—“

Stark frowns a little. “Why _wouldn’t_ I?” he asks, a playful smile on his lips as he eyes Steve up and down. The warmth of Steve’s face travels over his whole body, in the wake of Stark’s gaze. “Like I said, not many people can do what you did, even for a friend. And almost dying to prove a point, hey—“ He shakes his head appreciatively again. “Gotta admire that.”

There’s a smile threatening the corners of Steve’s mouth, and he tries to bite it back, to play it cool, even as he shifts awkwardly, hands on his pockets. “Well,” he watches the way Stark’s eyes blink at him, and, damn, he wouldn’t mind being the target of that look more often. “If an asthma attack gets you in the mood, I’m definitely your guy.”

Stark laughs. He has a nice laugh, Steve notices, unable to fight back his own smile. A really, really nice laugh. “Nobility gets me in the mood, I guess. Like I said – Arthurian geek over here.” His smile makes Steve’s knees feel a little weak. “Plus, it doesn’t hurt that you’re really cute.”

“You’re also—Uh—You’re really—“ Steve stumbles over his words, but Stark doesn’t seem to mind, smile growing fonder. Steve swallows. “Well,” he bites his lower lip, before giving into a huge grin of his own. “Will I have to arm wrestle you again for _your_ number?”

“Not really,” Stark (Tony? Steve should call him Tony, right? The thought gives him pleasant butterflies in his stomach) says, taking his phone off his pocket. “But just so you know, you’d win again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading it! Comments and kudos warm my heart. And, if you want, you can [reblog the post](http://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/179916525930/a-fair-match-nanasekei-marvel-cinematic) on tumblr.


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